


Orbit

by Beewritesstuff (Mimispace)



Category: South Park
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Growing Up Together, M/M, Purely a love story, building a life together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 15:54:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12535476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimispace/pseuds/Beewritesstuff
Summary: Orbit- the curved, continual path of a celestial object or spacecraft around a star, planet, or moon.Or, the way Craig feels around Tweek.





	Orbit

**_Voyager_ **

 

 _'Seven years'_ Craig thought. _'Seven years, and I never noticed this...jesus fuck.'_

'This', was his neurotic, stuttering, flighty boyfrieeee... _best_ friend's eerie fucking knack with animals. Like, more than any normal person Craig had ever seen.

Eerie like fiction.

Because honest-to-god, hand on his heart, scout's honor, he was watching as Tweek, not a twitch in sight, coaxed a bloody, terrified hawk out from underneath the nasty looking wall of brambles it had hidden under, and it _listened_. Craig hadn't even heard the damn thing; they'd been crunching through the snow in a wilder part of the park, and Tweek had paused in the middle of explaining an alien conspiracy to go dead-still; such a juxtaposition to his usual behavior that it had actually scared Craig for a moment. Because Tweek was the embodiment of motion. He spoke in big gestures, stuttering and tripping over twenty thoughts at a time that often revealed a dash of absolute brilliance under all that Tweek-ness.

But not now. Now, Tweek was literally frozen mid-step, balancing impossibly with his core way too far forward over his legs for Craig's mind to understand the possibility of it all.

A mad, illogical spike of adrenaline shot through Craig, making him feel tingly and loose as he stared at Tweek. But in a heartbeat it was over, and Tweek jittered in a circle, head cocked. Craig huffed out a breath he hadn't meant to hold, irritated at his own irrational concern when it came to Tweek.

"D-did ya hear that? I heard something-oh God, what if it's a-"

He let the thought peter off, peering off the path into the woods.

Craig shrugged off the last of that strange bolt of anxiety and started off in the direction Tweek was staring. Being with the kid was like owning the world's worst bloodhound. He was fantastic at noticing tiny details, but never had the confidence to actually point them out or investigate.  Craig had found it was easier to just wander toward whatever Tweek had found. He'd follow.

And sure enough, here came Tweek, brushing by Craig and squinting into the shadows.

Which was how they ended up walking to the nearest vet's office, Craig's sweatshirt sacrificed to hawk-blood and hawk-claws. It  was amazing; the bird had thrashed initially, but something about Tweek's gentle hands and soft murmurs had reduced it to a shivering, wide-eyed bundle in Craig's arms.

The receptionist was resignedly calm; she muttered about ..."fucking kids and air rifles", and bustled the hawk away with a thank-you thrown over her shoulder.

Not eager to go back out in the cold, Craig loitered in the entryway, leaning back against the wall with his eyes closed as Tweek typed away on his phone. Lazily, he reached out to snag Tweek's shirt and reeled him in -' _not a bad catch'_ **-** as Tweek jostled a little before relaxing against his chest.

Their relationship was...interesting. 'Domestic partner' was the perfect description for them, because it's exactly what they were. Domestic. A relationship that Craig has never really considered 'romantic', just peaceful. A fixture in each other's lives all through junior high and into high school. Through homecoming and prom, through football season and Tweek's theatre club, and kisses that got realer each time. Through bad grades and illnesses and friends coming and going, all the way until now, halfway through their senior year.

Their lives were just entwined. Craig was a low-effort kind of guy; being with Tweek was easier than any other option he could think of.

Girls were hot, but needy ( _so was Tweek...but he ignored that_ ), guys were hot, but bitchy ( _well, no one was bitchier than uncaffeinated Tweek...nope, also ignored_ ), and so Tweek was just the best option.

It was obvious. Reasonable.

Tweek was the best, for sound, logical reasons.

And then Tweek yawned and pressed his nose against Craig's neck, his chronic tremors subsiding. He squeezed Craig slightly, drawing a wordless hum of a question from the bigger boy.

"T-thanks. Thank you, um-I mean. For helping me back there."

Craig shrugged, and answered without thinking, "You know I'll always help you." Then he opened his mouth to correct the sappiness of that statement...and stopped. Because it was true, wasn't it? He'd never consciously thought about it before, but it was true.

Tweek could try to dig a hole to China, and Craig would help. Tweek could hit someone driving (a likely event, if Craig was honest), and Craig would help hide the body. It wouldn't even occur to him otherwise. He'd always been a dependable friend, but with Tweek it was different. He'd do damn near anything for Tweek, because he lo-

...

_'Oh.'_

' _Oh goddamn it.'_

The thought finished itself unbidden, and with it came a new current zinging along every neuron in Craig's brain.

He didn't know it then. But later, he'd look back on this moment -a Thursday evening in late February- with fond exasperation for his past self.

Because it was the moment that Craig, his mind staggering under this new revelation, his nose full of Tweek's shampoo and his arms full of Tweek himself, realized something he probably should have realized a long, long time ago.

 

_**Cassini** _

 

The first time Craig had kissed Tweek without it being 'for show', Tweek had just stared at him, before leaning in and gently kissing him back. They were thirteen, in the middle row of a movie theatre.

The second time they kissed, Tweek had been sitting on the floor of his kitchen, crying over a cake recipe that wouldn't rise after three attempts. Craig had crouched down and suggested Tweek just buy one at the grocery store for the bake sale the next day, and Tweek had lunged up to press their lips together. They were fifteen.

So it went with the both of them. A slow, unstoppable build, like a glacier cutting a path through stone. While their classmates dated, fucked, broke up, and dated again in an ouroboros of heartbreak, their relationship grew and shifted. At prom, they kissed during the last dance. They were eighteen. 

 

_**Spirit** _

 

Craig liked his job. He genuinely enjoyed it, and that enjoyment was what kicked off his entire life.

Because being a personal trainer didn't require a college degree, and every gym in the county had been excited to hire a young, attractive someone who had a football scholarship set up. That job had been the end of the growing friction between him and his parents;  he'd worked there for three months, fresh outta high school before they'd given an ultimatum.

Drop the job idea and take the scholarship, or get out. No 'off year'.

So he'd left the next morning, eighteen and homeless. He'd mourned the loss of a future working with spaceships and physics, but he hadn't wanted to leave town. Hadn't wanted to leave Tweek. The younger boy had made it plain from a very early age that he had no interest in college; he'd struggled enough in high school.

So Craig stayed, accepted into the Tweak household like second son he'd been for years. He'd only lived with Tweek for a few months, saving money from his job, before getting caught up in helping Tweek make a plan of action for his own future. On Tweek's birthday, he watched as Tweek presented the idea for a new coffee shop idea to his parents; they'd been surprisingly on-board with the idea. They'd already had the location bought and the basic equipment installed, and had still been searching for a manager. Craig silently suspected that they'd never thought their son would amount to  anything, and were so happy to see him trying that they were willing to let Tweek try just about anything.

But Tweek had done more than try. He'd convinced interior design students from the local community college to help with the inside ideas, and spent a month teaching himself how to upcycle furniture. Many early mornings had found him and Craig driving along the road hunting for trashed chairs and tables and scouring the second-hand stores. Craig had no skill at carpentry, and no desire to learn,  but he helped carry and load things. Plus, the looks Tweek gave him when he stripped off his shirt to work in the heat made it all worth it.

Tweek had fretted over the price of tools and paint for weeks, until Craig had just shrugged and gotten him a copy of his debit card. His money was Tweek's money, and that was that. But the look Tweek had given him when he'd handed it to him; open and searching, with a current of heat underneath it, had rushed over Craig like lightning. He had no words for it; was afraid to find them,  but Tweek had been uncharacteristically careful with the standard gray card, never losing it once and barely pulling any money from it.

Craig tracked expenses with his bank's app, not particularly concerned one way or the other. Overdraft fees could be argued, and  it's not like he had much to buy. Subscriptions to a few science magazines, some equipment for work. Nothing big. Nothing worth remembering. But Tweek, Craig learned, kept an old-fashioned check register. He'd said it was the only way he  could remember how much money he had. And that late night in November, the register was the closing step in half a lifetime's worth of a slow, circling dance between the two of them.

-

Craig walked into Tweek's house, having helped close the gym, and waved to Tweek out back in the shed.  He'd taken overtime to make up for his absence the following day; the coffee shop's grand opening, and he knew Tweek would want him there. He trudged up to their room, dropping his keys and his wallet haphazardly on the floor, before the desk light drew his eye.

Sitting there, as it had a hundred times before, was Tweek's check register, surrounded by Tweek flotsam and jetsam. But highlighted halfway down the page was, **_'Me and Craig's Store'_ ** , dated that morning, with the cost of the grand opening decorations scrawled beside it.

That ragged little book, with both their names written next to the goal they'd worked toward for months, looked like an open door to somewhere new, and familiar, and exciting all at once. Craig stared at it, open on Tweek's mess of a desk, as a strange urgency flooded up his spine and into his brain. He was moving before he thought about it.

He jogged down the stairs and out the back door, picking up speed until he skidded to a halt outside the big work door of the shed. Tweek had pulled some heavy table inside and seemingly hadn't shut the door yet. He was leaning against the work counter, all twitches forgotten as he stared at the wall in front of him. Deep in thought about something, he was chewing his lip, and Craig  felt a terribly small, huffed noise escape his throat.

It was a rare moment of silence in South Park. Too late for traffic, no dogs barking. Just the muting effect of snow as it started to fall lazily. A stray flake fluttered in and landed on Tweek's cheek, making him flinch and turn slightly. Then he turned the whole  way, looking at Craig as he stood there, panting like a hunted animal.  

Tweek smiled, just the tiniest curve of his lips, probably ready to ask how his day was, but Craig was already striding toward him, caught up in a feeling that was years in the making. He crouched and easily picked Tweek up, turning him against the shed wall and staring at him, breath coming faster and faster. Tweek hadn't even struggled; just clutched at his shoulders and stared back, mouth open and jaw working as snow fell harder outside the open door.

Thank god Tweek's parents weren't home, because Craig was certain that _something_ was changing that night. Something profound in this closer-than-friends relationship the two had. Something that had been there for years, growing as the two grew from children to young adults. Delicate as spider's web, it unraveled and wove itself into something new and wonderful while Craig supported Tweek with his hips and arms. Physically, he dwarfed Tweek; six feet, three inches to Tweek's scarce five- foot-eight, and fifty pounds of muscle heavier. Holding him against the wall was concerningly easy.

Yet despite the apparent fragility of Tweek, he proved himself the stronger man that night. Because Craig was out of his depth,  and had no idea what to do. He was acting out of pure instinct; panicky. A horse without a rider.

And to the amazement of the universe and all its constants, it was Tweek who moved first. Leaning in with a grace buried deep beneath jitters and anxiety, he brushed his lips against  Craigs in the slightest suggestion of a kiss. It felt like a whisper of breath and warmth in the cold night, and Craig shuddered hard enough he felt his spine pop. His entire awareness, like tunnel vision in his brain, focused in on his lips, and he felt so weak in the knees he was afraid he'd stagger backward. But then Tweek wrapped those skinny legs around his waist and pulled him closer, steadying him and pulling his hips against his own at the same time, and...

...and then Tweek pulled back to look at him, his eyes so electric green Craig imagined he could see them crackling, and exhaled his name. _That_ broke the nervous stillness that had taken Craig. He pressed himself so close to Tweek he could feel his heartbeat, kissing him again and again, and reveling in this new sensation of _want_ that he'd never really felt before. He'd picked  
Tweek up a thousand times before, had scooped him up and taken off as fast as he could just to hear him shriek with laughter as he clutched Craig. He'd hugged him a million times, had even kissed him on occasion.

This was different. This was _so_ much different. They kissed until their lips were chapped and their fingers were numb, the cold and wind forgotten, getting braver by the moment. Each time one broke off the other would lean in and catch their lips together, a give-and-take that built momentum with each kiss. Drawn in when Tweek gasped for a breath, Craig chased after his tongue, parting his rough, bitten lips further to lick over the smaller boy's incisors before catching his and sucking on it. A sound _ripped_ out of Tweek, guttural and animalistic, and it hit Craig like a punch to the gut. Everything was so loud in the stillness; Craig was hyper aware of denim rubbing together, of the tiny wet noises from him practically lapping at Tweek's mouth like a dog.

Then Tweek, moaning, somehow licked up the underside of Craig's tongue, and _fucking hell_ , it went straight to his cock, where Craig's imagination helpfully suggested it would feel even better. He rocked his hips, stuttering up against Tweek before realizing what he was doing, and froze, pulling away slightly. This was the line they'd never crossed; never anything further than kisses, though they'd never kissed like they were now.

But Tweek growled, the deepest Craig had ever heard his voice, and pulled him back in, moving to frame Craig's jaw between his hands before catching the flummoxed boy's lower lip between his sharp little teeth. Craig could only brace himself, trying to swallow back _mortifying_ sounds that ramped up as Tweek shifted from nibbling to sucking his lower lip hard enough sting. The feeling built until he couldn't hardly bare it, until Craig was desperate and shaking.

He fumbled at his waist, flicking open the button and pulling the zipper down just enough to pull himself free, then swore, low and dirty, because Tweek was fumbling to do the same. He tore his mouth away from Tweek's with a gasp for air and latched onto his neck, licking and nibbling to the pulsing of, ' _More, more, more'_ that seemed to have replaced his heartbeat. That got him a whine, sweet and breathless, and Craig chased it, desperate for more. Laving his tongue over the join of Tweek's neck got him a whimper; biting down in the same place brought Tweek up with a punched-out breath, making him arch his head back against the wall. Drawn back to the length of Tweek's neck, Craig drug his mouth open-lipped up the tendon standing out stark against Tweek's pale throat to suck hard at the corner of his jaw. Tweek, uncharacteristically still until that moment, absolutely _exploded_ in movement. He clutched and clawed at Craig's shoulders, writhing against him and groaning open-mouthed, shamelessly grinding their hips together. Craig lifted his lips from Tweek's neck to pant into his ear, chasing heat as it built in his cock, and arched his hips slightly to drive up into Tweek, the new angle making his ears roar. The cotton fabric between them was so thin to be nonexistent, and _finally_ Craig got the finesse of it, found an angle that dragged them both over each other. Tweek cried out truly then, desperate and high, whipping his head down to stare at him...and his pupils were so blown, his lips so red and swollen, that Craig felt himself grimace, felt himself toss his head in a strange tic of denial, because since when did this sort of thing happen to him? Had he ever been this wanted- this madly, desperately wanted?

Only by Tweek. Only by this beautiful, panting, trembling boy in his arms,who was staring at him like a starving man at the king's table, and oh...oh, he could have anything, Craig would give him anything. Would tear a star out of the sky, and give him the heart out of his own body, and build a house by hand because Tweak wanted all of him. Would _take_ all of him when Craig offered, and would give all of himself in return.

It was this thought that drove him over the edge, his teeth grit against the orgasm that threatened to make him pass out with its force, that stole his breath and made him half dizzy with relief and pleasure. Distantly, he heard Tweak whine, felt him shudder all over as his nails dug into Craig's back and he reached his own breaking point, and a flood of pride swamped Craig. _He'd_ done this; he'd brought Tweek to that edge, had driven him over it.   

They stayed locked together, gasps slowing to soft pants, with Tweek's jaw pressed to Craig's cheek as their shaking subsided. Craig pressed his nose against Tweek, breathing in what smelled like sex, and want, and _home._

Right here, in Tweek's arms...he was home.

"Shit...C-Craig?"

Tweek's voice was hoarse, barely a whisper and Craig felt the final piece of his life fall into place.

"Tweek. I love you." The words left him slowly, clearly, and in complete opposition to the way the rest of his body felt. He was terrified the instant he said it, but Tweek nodded solemnly, and that fast, all was right in his world.

Tweek whispered it back as they staggered away from the wall, leaning on each other before melting to the floor and sitting there, Tweek cradled against Craig's chest. He kept saying it, scattering weak kisses across Craig's shoulders each time and making the stoic boy smile so widely it hurt.

Then Tweek's parents came home, pulling into the driveway with champagne and the surprise of a few of their friends from school that had stayed in South Park. They reluctantly dragged themselves inside, throwing out lame excuses to go upstairs and change pants, giggling like kids as they stumbled around, swiped at each other and stole little kisses. When they finally went back downstairs, they were met with warmth, and friendship, and the excitement of the future.

They must have looked thoroughly-debauched, because Token had laughed and clapped them both on the back, and Jimmy outright hugged Tweek, and Kyle had just grinned and saluted Craig. Then Tweek's mom caught Craig's eye, and after looking him over, winked at him and nudged her husband away from his son and toward the champagne.

By the time everyone left, they were too exhausted to do any more than stumble into the shower. They'd showered together before; Craig had gotten a virus junior year that left him so weak he'd needed help taking a bath...but this was different somehow. Craig sat on the toilet lid, leaning his head back against the wall as he waited for Tweek, and Tweek did the same for him. There was an electric connection between them; an intrinsic knowledge of what the other was doing born of years spent together, bolstered by this recent development, and it seemed like both of them were caught up in it. Craig swore he knew what part of Tweek the water was hitting just by the sound of it, and once he'd pulled the curtain around himself, he stared at Tweek's blurry outline sitting there the entire time he rushed through his own soap and shampoo.

When he got out, Tweek held out a towel, opening it for Craig to step into as he looked everywhere but at him. He turned his back the moment Craig had hold of the towel. But as Craig dried off, he realized there was no anxiety there. None of the sickening panic that sometimes swept Tweek up. The smaller boy was just genuinely, sweetly nervous. Craig was too, if he was honest.

Pulling on a pair of boxers, he watched as a stray droplet of water slid down the small of Tweek's back, before getting caught in the waist of his pajama pants. There was another right above it, coasting along the outline of his spine, and Craig licked suddenly dry lips. He wanted to taste that drop so badly, wanted to chase it down and see where it took him. But at that moment, a yawn struck him so hard that his jaw popped and he heard Tweek yawn in reply. He didn't even have to say anything; he took a step forward, and Tweek, without looking back, reached out and opened the bathroom door.

They crawled into bed, slightly damp and shivering a little, and passed out wrapped around each other.

-

The next day seemed to blur, with the only constant being this new awareness of each other. Tweek lost his car keys and took an hour to calm down (they were in his back pocket), and then Craig tore a hole in the sleeve his new shirt. Instead of freaking out as Craig expected, Tweek just sat down, pulled out a sewing kit, and stitched it quickly shut as Craig watched in interest.

Then suddenly it was five o'clock in the evening, and Tweak's Corner was open, and Craig was so _ferociously_ proud of Tweek as customers _ooh-ed_ and _ahh-ed_ over the custom furniture, and shelled out more money than Craig ever would for cups of hot cider and fancy coffees. As a finishing touch, Tweek had gotten local artists to put a few pieces of their work around, and even Craig could tell that the place was well done, even professional looking. All their friends, old and new, that could possibly get off  work or school came down for the evening, flooding the internet with positive reviews and urging the other customers to do the same.  Tweek's parents were sitting in the corner, entertaining a group of older customers and plainly staying out of Tweek's way. Pride practically radiated from them, but they let Tweek do his job without interference.

Craig lingered in the corner, more there to morally support Tweek than to actually help in any way, and watched Tweek at the counter. The difference in him was astounding. Continued acting lessons since junior high drama club hadn't, no, couldn't, change Tweek's personality. Craig wouldn't want them to. But they'd given Tweek a stillness; a pool of confidence he could draw on. He still stuttered, was still prone to outbursts and rants, but it had turned into something charming and self-depreciating with age.

He was funny and moving in turn, telling one couple how the shop was a crack-snap dream turned reality, then pointing out Craig to a group of sorority girls with a conspiratorial grin. Craig played his part by lifting a hand lazily in greeting and leaning back slightly to pull his shirt tighter on his chest. They'd looked him over, assessing, then nodded their approval to Tweek with the regality of queens.

Then Tweek laughed at something an older woman behind him said, his teeth catching the light, and Craig felt himself stand up out of the chair before he knew he was going to do. It was ridiculous really, the draw Tweek had to him. But he was laughing, his sleeves rolled up to stay out of stray coffee's way, and his hair was a slightly more artful mess than usual, and it pulled Craig in. Made him want to show off, made him feel confident and _horribly_ nervous at the same time.

The leader of the group of girls, watching him with that same unnerving knowing that his sister was beginning to develop, whispered something to her friends then winked at him. The three fanned out, two stepping usefully in the way of a group coming toward the counter, and the third dropping her purse right behind the older woman talking to Tweek. Of course she turned and helped the younger girl pick it up, and then was caught up in a conversation about a painting a ways away, leaving a clear path for Craig.

Making a note in his mind to somehow give the group of them gift cards, or jewelry, or _something_ , he stretched, purposely jostling the table so it squeaked. A few people glanced his way, but more importantly, Tweek glanced his way. And froze.

Craig stretched higher, snagging a low wooden beam over his head, and leaned forward against it, flexing his arms. Even in the low light, he saw Tweek's gaze flick to his shoulders and back to his face. Then, nonchalant as if he really had just been stretching, he let go and strode toward Tweek.

Craig had never thought of himself as particularly attractive before. It just never occurred to him. He worked out for his job, and he used conditioner if he remembered to, and that was that. But now, with the way Tweek straightened slightly and took the tiniest step toward him, his head tilted back slightly...

Craig felt his nostrils flare, felt a shiver of something delicious race across his skin at the look Tweek was giving him. When he reached the counter, he pushed a stool out of the way with one foot and leaned against the counter, bracing his forearms there as he fixed Tweek with a mock glare.

"Hey. I got here before everyone else, and I've been waiting forever...where's mine?"

Tweek's smile was rich with promise as he turned to pour something from a pitcher. It was cider, rich and steaming, and before Tweek handed it over, he took a tiny sip, running the very tip of his tongue along the rim of the clear mug in a way that made Craig squint against the sudden heat that oozed down to his cock.

"Tasted it for you...j-just to make sure it's...hot enough."

Craig, half-giddy with this new game between the two of them, shifted his weight and let his eyes slide down Tweek's body, lingering over his neck, his chest, and...lower, before flicking them back up to his face and taking the drink.

"You look good, babe." Craig cringed  the moment he said it and hid his face in the mug; those puppy-love pet names carried a whole new weight now. But the way Tweek blushed, looking down at his feet and stuttering out a denial, made it instantly worth it. He'd call him pet names a thousand times a day if it got that reaction.

Then Tweek looked up, dragging his gaze from Craig's toes to the top of his head, and whispered, "So do you", and mother _fucker_ but didn't that newfound bravery of Tweek's give him the fastest hard-on Craig had ever had in his life?

Just then, a group of people stepped up to the counter, and Tweek turned away with a lingering smile, leaving Craig to surreptitiously adjust the prominent bulge in his jeans, a muttered, "...goddamnit..." cast out to any deity listening. He spent the rest of the evening perched on a stool, chatting with their friends if they wandered over, and just watching Tweek. It was nice. Peaceful. Craig realized he could probably do this for the rest of his life, happily.

At the end of the night, once all the customers left and it was only their friends and Tweek's family, Tweek's parents handed their son the keys to the front door amongst much applause from the small crowd. Then they turned and handed a set to Craig, and if Tweek heard Craig sniff when he hugged him, well...Tweek would never tell Craig's secrets.  


**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always appreciated :) 
> 
>  
> 
> My writing blog.


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